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Messages - Hope Heelcum

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Climax Control Archives / A Pubic Service Announcement
« on: December 07, 2012, 09:44:36 PM »
 
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The camera opened with the view filled with a swirling steam that filled the camera's lens with moisture and condensation. The sound heard was filled with the splashing of water, and a light hearted laughter. Moving closer, the misty steam would start to thin and we come up on a steamy scene -- literally -- as it is set at a hot tub where the SCW's resident transvestite superstar, Hope Heelcum, is submerged up to his shoulders with his hair held up.

On the edge of the hot tub's border, on Hope's immediate left and right, were two bronze studs seated. Their bodies were tanned to perfection to a golden brown, smooth to perfection with an athletic muscle that denoted their dedication to bodily perfection. Handsome to a breath taking degree, of which would make the average male movie star green with envy, the two were clad in nothing more than black thongs as they leaned over the water, using one hand to hold on for safety's sake, and their free hand(s) to gently massage Hope's exposed upper body with hand cloths.

Hope had his head rested back against the hot tub's edge, an inflatable cushion under his head and eyes closed with bliss readable on his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked into the camera.

Hope: "In my line of work, it is very important to take care of one's body."

Cut to a clip of a night club filled to capacity with men of all ages, young at just over the legal drinking age, to that of the older generation out in hope of hitting a young score. Many were seated at booths and along the bar, but countless others were around the dance floor, cheering on as two men competed in a tarp-lined kiddie pool filled with mud! One of those grapplers caked from head to toe in mud was none other than Hope Heelcum!

Hope: "It's a well known fact that warm mud is great for the skin."

He held up a forefinger for emphasis.

Hope: "And never forget to limber up!"

The young grappler Hope was pitted against in the mud pit had Heelcum flat on his back. He kneeled on Hopes shoulders and folded him in half with his legs over his head while the pinfall was counted -- and Hope's eyes bugged out from the 'view'.

Hope: "Like myself, anyone in the public eye should take the time to look the part and dress appropriately."

Hope stood in the forefront of the camera, dressed in a full-length, leather catsuit with high heels and cracked a whip.

Hope: "And finally, always remember to eat right. A proper diet for a professional athlete is vital to success and physical well being."

At the center of a crowd of young college-aged men, Hope stood with his head tilted all the way back and he  expertly lowered a kielbasa down into his mouth -- all the way -- amidst the men's cheers and whistles.

Hope: "So in conclusion my sweet meat, or as I like to call him... Daniel Tyler..."

Hope leaned back and his hands reached up and gently massaged the tanned flesh of the two who were gently rubbing him down at the side of the hot tub...

Hope: "I am a man who takes very good care of himself, and great pride in what I go through to be the man that I am inside of that ring. I am so very much looking forward to our time together, and I want you to have all the confidence in the world that I will take very good care of you."

Hope winks into the camera and blows into it a kiss as the two studs sink into the steamy water to join him.

2
Climax Control Archives / Tricks or treats
« on: October 26, 2012, 10:08:34 AM »
 "So many people think of the holiday Halloween as a time for children to go out dressed as ghosts and goblins and witches, running from door to door to beg for candy and treats. They are right, but what so many also seem to fail to understand that it's just as much a holiday for adults."

"Yes, adults. You see, adults can take this one evening out of the year and turn back the clock to the childhood where they too were able to enjoy such simple pleasures as dressing up in costumes and enjoying an evening with friends. Statistics show that adults have the market cornered when it comes to rentals and sales of Halloween costumes and props."

"I mean, just go to you average store that specially deals with Halloween decor and clothing. Have you actually seen the things they sell? Gory masks and makeup, frightening props that would send young children crying in defiance at having to enter with their parents. I've seen just that myself recently. I went into a store that's only open this time of year for Halloween and I thought I'd treat myself. I love dressing up, obviously, and throwing a fun party, so I thought I'd see what they had that I might find of use."

Hope stood in the aisle of the Halloween shop, looking over a rather large selection of intricate makeup to go with his chosen costume, when he heard the sharp, shrill cry of a young child. Curious as was his nature, he moved to the end of the aisle but pretended to just be browsing. He looked up and just a few yards away was a father holding his young daughter as she clung to him desperately. There were tears streaming down her face as she stared up in morbid fear at the spectral image of the winged reaper cloaked in black, hanging almost directly over her head. Her father tried without success to calm her as a foot away, her mother and older sibling watched with some hint of embarrassment on their faces at the scene being displayed.

Hope shook his head and went back to his shopping at the end of the aisle once again. He glanced up and saw the father take the girl outside of the store to soothe her fears while the mother and son went on ahead with their shopping in the store.

"Seriously. Given the high level of realistic props and scary things this store specializes in, what on earth would make any parents think it alright to bring such a young child in and it wouldn't frighten him or her?"

Hope was seen in his loft apartment, seated on a small chair with SCW's own Pussy Willow seated across from him with a table in between them. On the table were piles of colorful materials, some of which were hefted onto Hope's lap while he worked on it with a needle and thread. There were also a couple of saucers with coffee cups and a small plate of cookies to share with his guest. Say what you will, but Hope is a very astute 'hostess'.

Pussy Willow picked up a small cookie on her tray and took a bite before setting it down and reaching for her coffee.

PUSSY: I have to agree with you there. Some of those stores can be pretty frightening to small children. Heck, they're frightening to some adults.

She set her coffee cup down and smiled as Hope glanced up at her from his sewing project and grinned.

HOPE: Such as yourself?

Pussy Willow smiled and a hint of color touched her cheek bones.

PUSSY: Something like that. Oh don't get me wrong. I love the costumes and makeup but the scary things? Yeah not so much.

HOPE: I understand. Personally I've always loved Halloween. From a kid to now. Then again I don't know of any gay men or women who don't love this holiday. I like to think of it as 'our' holiday.

Hope chuckled and Pussy smiled. She leaned over to get a look at Hope's project.

PUSSY: Is that why you're spending so much effort on your costume for your match?

Hope nodded.

HOPE: Oh that's certainly one reason why, but I think you know how much of an impression I enjoy making during my appearances. I think this costume will certainly do the trick. I don't want any of those boys I'm up against to ever forget our time in the ring together.

Pussy Willow laughed as she rubbed her chin with her fingers.

PUSSY: Oh knowing you as we've come to so far, I don't think that'll be possible. Vaughn Andrews is one of your opponents but he has really yet to make any sort of personal appearances for SCW. Do you think he'll be much of a factor?

Hope shook his head, a frown on his brow.

HOPE: None what so ever. He seems to be the type who shows up and gets signed, thinking he's going to be in for an easy road. The moment he finds out he has to put some effort into things, he tucks his tail between his legs and leaves.

PUSSY: What about Gene Banton Jr?

Hope paused in his sewing and looked up in contemplation.

HOPE: I have no clue what to make of that kid. Over confident, that's for sure. But how can you not expect him to be, given who his daddy is? Kid probably thinks the Banton name should carry him through everything. Though I do have to give him credit for one thing.

PUSSY: Oh? What's that?

Hope closed his eyes and sighed dreamily.

HOPE: The boy has a butt you could crack an egg on.

Both share a light hearted laugh.

PUSSY: Indeed! But the last person in the match, you should actually be pretty familiar with. After all, your first match in SCW was against him. James Huntington...

HOPE: I remember.

He looked up at Pussy Willow and she could see the thought irked him.

HOPE:And I haven't forgotten what happened in that match. That brat was lucky, plain and simple. I mean, he won by accident yet to hear him, you'd think he had just won a world title or something. That kid doesn't have what it takes to be main event material. He thinks his wealth should give him everything on a silver platter. Including success in SCW.

Hope looked up and shook his head.

HOPE: I can't wait to get my hands on that little punk. Banton and Vaughn can play together as much as they want to, but that punk is going to be my little Halloween treat. I plan on rubbing it completely in his face when I go on to the supercard as the third person in the roulette championship match.

PUSSY: You certainly are focused. Now...

Pussy Willow nodded towards the colorful folds of silk fabric.

PUSSY: When do we get to know what exactly you're going to show up as?

Hope looked at her and winked.

HOPE: Not until Sunday toots. That's going to be my little treat.

Hope went back to his sewing while Pussy Willow picked up her coffee again and watched with interest.

<marquee>HALLOWEEN -- THE GAY PEOPLE'S CHRISTMAS!</marquee>

3
Climax Control Archives / The best things 'come' on Primetime
« on: October 05, 2012, 08:24:38 PM »
 The scene is immediately that of a stage in front of a studio audience compromised of drag queens of all shapes and sizes in the gaudiest costumes one can imagine.

On the forefront of the stage, standing with a microphone in hand, is an overweight drag queen in a horrid impersonation of the iconic diva herself, Cher.

>

The studio audience immediately erupts in  a frenzy of whistles and catcalls. Hope pauses and smiles, waiting for it to die down as he 'fans' himself with his free hand.

Hope: "Oh dear God, yes! Primetime Matthew Kennedy! The very same hunk of man cake that I'll be meating ... **laughs** .. I mean, 'meeting' inside of the ring this Sunday at Climax Control here in Australia. Am I not the luckiest female man on the face of God's green earth? Hm?"

The audience nods and applauds in agreement.

Hope: Shame on you, Matthew, saying such things about me. Just for that, I just might bring my riding crop into that ring with me and give you the spanking you deserve on that firm, round behind you've been flaunting in those tight trunks of yours. You can't fault me for anything that I said before. I didn't speak anything but the truth. And as for my match against that little dish James Huntington-Hawkes III, well... this is professional wrestling, Matthew. And if you can't be entertaining, then you really have no business being in the sport. That 'is' what the people who pay to see us want, after all. To be entertained. And of how I'm going to give them a show to remember, once I lay my hands 'ALL' over you! Sticks and stones, Matthew, may break my bones ... but the best things come on Primetme."

The studio audience cheers and whistles as Hope waves to them all and the scene slowly fades out.

4
Climax Control Archives / Life's a drag
« on: September 06, 2012, 07:00:34 PM »
 
Salt 'n' Pepa - I Am Body Beautiful
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Hope: "I wasn't always this way. You might say I fell into this role, quite by accident."

A closeup of a mirror, and the sensuous reflection of a pair of lips.

A tube of lip gloss is held up and slowly the application emerges from the golden tube.

The lips upon closeup once again and being adorned with the moist coloring of ruby red lipstick as the applicator glides over the lips gently. The lips pucker, ensuring an even, complete coating.

Hope: "So many of these macho men in the sport fail to understand two very important things."

"One, professional wrestlers are really no different than drag queens. They get dressed up in the gaudiest of outfits for little more reason than to draw attention to oneself. Drag queens have to be noticed, you see. It's what they do for a living. If you can't get the eyes of the audience on you from the start of your performance to the very end, you've wasted your time and their's. The same could be said for professional wrestlers."

Inside of the ring, Hope grabs an opponent by the arm and twists the limb into an overhead arm wringer. Hope cries out about a hair pull but when the referee goes around to check, it is Hope that grabs the opponent by the hair and she uses that handle to yank the opponent off of their feet and down to the mat.

A closeup shot in the mirror of Hope's eye, being traced around with eyeliner in a deep, dark hue of purple.

Hope: "Professional wrestlers have to do the same. It used to be the basic outfit of a wrestler was simple trunks in simple colors. Nowadays though, oh how times have changed. Now as the sport has gotten even bigger, these men (and I suppose the women) have to go to extreme measures to get noticed and make certain that they stay noticed. Colorful outfits and outlandish mannerisms are the norm for the vast majority of the men and women in our field of expertise."

"Why do you think I embrace this side of my own life inside of the ring? That's right. To be noticed. The very same reason why I did so when I first got into the lifestyle of drag. To make damn certain that when I stepped out onto the stage, that all eyes were on me, and me alone."

Hope meets an opponent in the middle of the ring, readying for the initial lock up. Yet before they can do so, Hope turns his back to the opponent and caresses his own backside. the opponent aptly freaks out and jumps back away from Heelcum and takes refuge in the far corner.

A closeup of a hand held out with fingers spread wide while a fresh coat of bright pink nail polish is applied.

Hope: "You could be the single greatest athlete in the sport today, but if you're not colorful enough or attractive enough to keep the eyes of the crowd on you, you won't last. Or at the very least, you won't make it very far in the long run. You won't even make it to the big leagues, so dream on mister sister."

Hope is feeling the brunt of the match's intensity, taking lower ground on the outside of the ring. The opponent walks over to the ropes to get him back inside when Hope grabs his foot and pulls him down and to the outside along with him. Hope rakes the opponent's eyes and strikes him with an open hand chop to the throat. Hope then picks the opponent up and body slams him on the floor.

Hope: "Fortunately, I don't have to worry about such silly trifles. I have both advantages going for me. Plus the added advantage of not being afraid to confront my opponents -- physically. Most of these men that stare at me from across the ring become scared little boys. They first walk into the building, so confident and so secure in their own masculinity. Then they see me, and all of that confidence just goes flying out the window."

A foot slips into a shimmering boot, designed to reflect the lights of the stage.

Hope: Not surprising. Men often become boys when faced down with something they can't handle or control. Now, I admit I do enjoy being handled, but no man controls me. In the ring, it's Hope Heelcum who does all of the controlling. It is Hope, who turns macho men into quivering masses of boy flesh."

Hope is chasing an opponent around the interior of the ring, hands reaching out towards his backside, much to the crowd's amusement.

A closeup as an earring is fixed to the earlobe.

Hope: "Though I have to admit an uncertainty as to how this match, my very first in SCW, fits into that equation. How does one turn a man into a boy when the man you're going up against has barely reached puberty? I was hoping to be signed up against one of the more prime cuts of Sin City beefcake, but alas it seems not to be. At least, not yet anyway. For my opening act, I'm going against a little boy who fancies himself a man."

Hope has an opponent in a front facelock with one arm and uses his free hand to give the man the wedgie from Hell.

Hope: "James Huntington-Hawkes III? Hm, well isn't he quite the mouthful? I tried scouting him, and there really wasn't much to go on. You haven't exactly had the stellar career you thought you could buy into, have you? How great can you be when you have to launch a Twitter campaign just to get noticed enough to be placed on the SCW's weekly broadcast? Poor James. Nobody took you serious before. And nobody will now. Tsk, tsk."

Hope steps out onto the stage in a full Vegas girl style outfit, complete with head dress. He spreads his arms outward and the glittering tassels reflect the stage lights in a shining brilliance. With a bright smile, Hope turns around in circles to present himself to all that are in attendance.

Hope: "Don't let it get you down, James. Life was bound to knock you down a few pegs when you finally found something that money could not buy you the success that you seem to feel is your birth right. After I put you down for the count, you just go running back to cry on your nanny's shoulder, and maybe he'll be nice enough to fix you some warm milk before bed time."

The crowd boos as the referee raises Hope's arm in victory.

Hope: "Oh, what was the second thing the macho men of professional wrestling fail to acknowledge or understand? Well, let me break it down for you. What do professional wrestlers do, really. They work out so that they have attractive, athletic bodies, that they stuff into little more than erotic spandex bathing suits that are so tight you can see their pulse through. In these outfits, half naked, they roll around on the mat with other macho men, putting one another in the oddest holds and positions. Look where their hands go for a simple body slam. Face facts sweet meat. Professional wrestling itself is homoerotic."

"Thank God!"

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